


The Burning Light

by spacehopper



Category: Deus Ex (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Protection - Smaller/Weaker Character Physically Protects Injured Larger/Stronger Character, Wingfic, Wingfic - Noncon Body Modification
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-21 10:19:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16574600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacehopper/pseuds/spacehopper
Summary: Adam gets wings. Vaclav helps him figure out how to fly.





	The Burning Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Masu_Trout](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masu_Trout/gifts).



When Jensen fell, Vaclav’s heart fell with him. The drop was a dizzying blur, time slowed to a crawl by the augs crammed into his brain, capturing every second in perfect detail. With an electric crack, silver wings unfolded, surrounded in a halo of golden light that took Vaclav’s breath away. In that moment, as Jensen’s bare feet touched the ground, he looked almost angelic, eyes bright and almost wild, even from this distance. Then the light faded, and he looked over to Vaclav, eye shields snapping back into place.

“Aren’t you cold?” Vaclav said, gesturing at the general vicinity of chest as Jensen walked towards him.

“I don’t exactly have a lot of shirts designed for wings. And I’d rather not destroy them all making it work, since you are getting it fixed, aren’t you?” He crossed his arms over his chest, and his eyebrows peeked out above the eye shields.

Just a few weeks ago, Vaclav would’ve quailed before that intimidating stare. But ever since the wings, it’d been…different. Oh, not like Jensen had suddenly turned into a squishy teddy bear. If he had, Vaclav would’ve been checking for mind control, not just crazy ass wing augs. But they’d been spending more time together, and well, Jensen might look a bit like a thug. But mostly, he just seemed to brood a lot, and make smart remarks. He’d barely even freaked out when Vaclav told him he didn’t know how to retract the wings. And if he could tolerate that, he was already cuddlier than the vast majority of Vaclav’s clients. So yeah, he’d eased up a bit. 

“You know, I could bring you something to wear,” Vaclav said. Jensen’s head tilted down, clearly eyeing Vaclav’s own perfectly adequate physique. “Not something of mine! Just, you know, I could totally find something, since you’re pretty trapped here and all.”

“If you’re that bothered by it, knock yourself out,” Jensen said, taking a seat on a stool Vaclav had smuggled in. Not like abandoned warehouses came with a lot of furnishings, after all. 

Vaclav plopped down next to him on a folding chair. “I’m not bothered. I’m just trying to help. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed there, like really, probably should put it on display more.” 

Jensen didn’t respond, instead leaning over to the mini-fridge and pulling out a beer. As he knocked it back, Vaclav swore he saw a small smile on his lips. 

“You’re fucking with me, man.” Vaclav groaned. “Never knew you had a sense of humor, but you’re all about the hidden depths, aren’t you?” 

The wings twitched, and Vaclav winced. Sore point, right. Not that he got why Jensen was so worried about his cool augs. Vaclav would kill for that shit, but Jensen, well. Guy like that had issues, and Vaclav was already in deeper than he should be. 

Not like that had ever stopped him going deeper.

“They’re fucking cool, you know?” Vaclav waved a hand at the things. “Once I get the retraction figured out, you’ll be golden. Aug murder machine on wings. Like fucking Batman, but better.” 

Just as he’d expected, Jensen just pulled the wings tighter, and downed the rest of his beer. Damned if Vaclav didn’t want to know what made him so unhappy with the whole thing. I mean sure, doing it without him knowing was kind of creepy. But the results…fuck. 

“Have you made any progress?” Jensen said, setting the now empty beer down and reaching for another. He was lucky he had that Sentinel, with the amount he drank, or he’d be dead. Sure as hell was murder on Vaclav’s budget. But eh, he’d expense it later, when he felt a little less guilty about the whole thing. 

But for now…

“I got a lead. Just like I told you when I found the wings. Not impossible, but it takes time.”

His eyes were drawn back to the magnificent augs, to the equally magnificent man they were attached too. He’d fix it alright, but fuck if sometimes he didn’t want to.

***

The problem was, it’d sort of been Vaclav’s fault. See, the issue with that neuroplasticity calibrator was that it might’ve been a tiny bit more experimental that Vaclav had made clear. Certainly nothing as crazy as Jensen’s augs, he wouldn’t fuck around with that shit. But yeah, a bit crazier than he would’ve messed with on anyone but himself. Desperate times, and all that, and Jensen had needed it. But still. Should’ve maybe warned the guy.

So when Jensen called him up, complaining about some weirdness with the Icarus aug, Vaclav couldn’t get him in fast enough. If the calibrator was going to have problems, better deal with them now, and hell, he’d been curious what it might have done with something as well tested as the Icarus. What other weird shit might be fucking things up. So when Jensen was strapped into his chair, face down and out for the count, he might’ve done a little extra poking. 

And what he found was fucking _insane_. 

Oh, he’s seen prototypes for wings before, but problem was that the kind of gear you’d need to lift a human was some serious shit. Seriously huge and heavy shit. Why bother strapping it to someone, when the Icarus would get you down well enough, an there were VTOLS for the rest? But whatever crazy evil genius had fucked around with the rest of Jensen’s augs had managed to come up with a solution. A variation on the TITAN aug, deploying a compact nanotube framework, then filling it out with the same neodymium skin, and using the existing Icarus itself to boost and electrify it. He was trying to figure out how the hell the thing didn’t eat through power like mad when the alarm had gone off.

At first he hadn’t noticed it, too focused on the crazy readouts. It wasn’t until the readings began to change, almost like—

“Fuck.”

It was all he managed to say before the wings deployed.

Sheer dumb luck kept him from being skewered by them, slipping on an oil spill as he stumbled back in shock, leaving him to stare up at the shimmering expanse. The shifting mass of it was downright mesmerizing, and before he could think better of it, he reached up to touch it, hissing as the current jumped to his fingers. Damn good thing his arms were augmented, or it would’ve been nastier than the slight shock, easily controlled by his cerebral systems. The wings began to stabilize before his eyes, in a way that should not fucking work like that.

And then, of course, Jensen woke up.

To be honest, the whole thing after was sort of a blur. Jensen flipped the fuck out, and Vaclav flipped out with him. His lab ended up smashed to shit, but despite it all, he never hurt Vaclav, not even once. Even when he came close to smacking him with a wing, he made sure to scramble away at the last second, and getting a long cut across his chest for his pain. It seemed to last forever, but in reality, the whole thing was over in a minute. Two, tops. Then Jensen calmed down. It was kind of fucking eerie, the eye shields sliding back into place, the way he turned ice cold, even as his chest heaved, and the monitors still connected screamed that his system was in overdrive.

But all he said was, “What happened?”

Vaclav managed to get him to sit down, cleaning the cut while he babbled an explanation, and dealt with the burning glare he knew was behind those eye shields when he admitted there were issues with the calibrator. But in the end, all Jensen had asked was if he could fix it. So of course Vaclav had said yes.

But the problem was, it was going to take time.

***

And that was how they’d ended up here. The warehouse really had been one of his better ideas. Like he’d explained to Jensen, he knew a guy, who knew a guy, whose mother had once had this huge ass factory. But it’d been for augs, and when the Aug Incident hit, well. Things got really fucked up. And the owner, she’d lost it herself, flinging herself at her workers. She’d ended up dead, in the end, and the factory shut down. But her son couldn’t bear to do anything with the place, even though he wasn’t an aug himself. So he’d left it there, like a creepy as shit memorial, a lot of equipment still intact and useful, if you ignored the bloodstains.

When he’d explained it to Jensen, he hadn’t even protested. Just gave Vaclav a grim look, then nodded. Not like he had any other choice. Until the wings were hidden, Jensen was a target for criminals of all sorts, with a badge or without. 

What Vaclav didn’t tell him was that the owner had been working on her own version of Icarus, and that she’d been testing it here, in the cavernous heights of the main building. When they’d walked inside, Jensen had stared up into the darkness, and then given Vaclav a look. 

“I’m not testing them out,” he’d said.

At that point, Vaclav had been too afraid to protest.

But the thing was, whatever hang-ups Jensen had about his augs, he was a pragmatic guy. Even he could recognize how the wings could come in handy. So when he’d started trying them out a few days later, Vaclav hadn’t been surprised. Just like he wasn’t surprised today to find Jensen soaring over him again as he shuffled through the door with two bags of takeout over his arms.

For a moment, Vaclav was caught up in the sight of him, black and silver and gold and fucking gorgeous. Maybe he shouldn’t stare, patient-doctor relationship and ethics and all that shit, but it wasn’t like he was really a doctor, and Jensen was…Jensen was different. Special. Not just the augs, but under that gruff exterior he was good in a way that almost made Vaclav ashamed. Like he should be out on the street, helping orphans and saving kittens or whatever it was Jensen got up to.

Shit. He’d just not charge him. Public service and all, wasn’t it? Especially when most of his clients were criminals.

But for now, he’d give Jensen some food. The Chicken Foot might not be fancy, but the frills just made food more pricey, not better tasting. He began to set it out, humming to himself as he laid out the containers and the extra foot sauce they’d actually fucking remembered this time. The new guy was finally learning the ropes, and hey, threatening him vaguely with Vaclav’s “powerful friends” probably hadn’t hurt either. 

“Did you seriously get me wings?” 

The foot sauce splattered onto the floor as Vaclav jumped, colliding with Jensen’s very warm, very solid chest. Add another point for him being a nice guy, because he didn’t just drop Vaclav, holding him up with those augmented reflexes and a very nice arm. Vaclav held onto it while his heart recovered.

“Make a little noise, why don’t you?” he said. “Like I know you have all the super sneaky augs, but I swear you want to take me out, you don’t need to use stealth.”

The arm relaxed, and Vaclav pulled free. Damn, those augs were warm. He’d never gotten to feel it quite to close and personal before. Not that he was going to say anything, of course. 

“Habit,” Jensen said with a shrug, reaching for the wings and one of the remaining containers of foot sauce. He dropped onto the stool next to Vaclav, thigh brushing against him. 

That was a weird thing, about this whole arrangement. How damn comfortable Jensen had gotten. Maybe that was why Vaclav opened his big mouth.

“Seriously, the way you look, man, you could get right up close and personal, take me out like that.” As soon as he realized what he’d said, he stuffed a foot into his mouth. A literal one, this time. Maybe if he choked, it wouldn’t sound like he’d just tried to flirt.

Jensen was silent, and Vaclav swallowed the foot. Maybe he’d just ignore it. Very Jensen thing to do, that. Ignoring all the weird shit that came out of Vaclav’s mouth was the best policy anyway, one his own mother had followed for years.

“Thank you. For taking care of this all. I really appreciate it.” 

Vaclav looked up, mouth gaping around some partially chewed chicken foot. Not his best look, from the way Jensen grimaced at the sight. He swallowed, then cleared his throat. 

“Ah, no problem, man. Just fixing my mess, you know?”

Jensen snorted. “Mess was here long before you turned up. Only thing you’re responsible for is not telling me about the calibrator. But the rest of this? You didn’t need to do it. So yeah, I appreciate it.”

“Oh.” Vaclav popped an onion ring into his mouth. “Right.” He chewed thoughtfully, and noticed Jensen had let the eye shields retract. Weird, but he’d started doing it more lately. The next thing he said might get him punched, but if the flirting hadn’t… “You’re not just talking about the wings, are you?”

Jensen shot him a look, and he half-expected the eye shields to snap shut. But Jensen just sighed, and turned back to his food. A strange, reckless sort of courage filled Vaclav’s chest, the kind his mother had always said would get him killed. But she hadn’t been right yet. 

“It’s not a mess. I mean, I know everyone feels differently, but this is shit is amazing. Like, you’re fucking gorgeous, you know? And I get that you know, you didn’t chose it, all this experimental shit. But there’s a lot we don’t choose, you know?” Even as he was saying it, he knew it was wrong. Not what Jensen needed to hear, not even really true. But some part of him thought that maybe if he found the right words, Jensen would understand. Just because you didn’t ask for something, didn’t mean it was a curse.

“So, what? Just embrace it?” Jensen was almost smiling, just a faint curve to his lips. But damn, was it as bitter as bad foot sauce.

“Not much else you can do, is there? Sit and brood and hate yourself, or just, become what you are.” No, that still wasn’t right. Fuck, he was not cut out for this heart to heart shit. “Look, man. I—I don’t get it. I get that I don’t get it. But you can do some great shit, and well.” He found himself smiling, almost wistfully. “I’ve always wanted to fly.”

“You love being augmented, don’t you. Even now?” 

There was an odd bit of wonder in Jensen’s voice. Like he couldn’t quite believe it. The question wasn’t rhetorical. He really didn’t get it, loving augmentation not for what it did, but just for what it was. 

“Fuck, yeah. It’s so much more, all that potential, how could I not?”

Jensen was looking at him. Really looking at him, the way Vaclav looked at augs in his workshop, like he was trying to dissect him, figure out what made him tick.

“You said you wanted to fly?”

***

Flying, it turned out, was terrifying, and awkward, and the best fucking thing Vaclav had done in a long time. In the end, Jensen had just wrapped his arms around Vaclav’s chest, impossibly strong in a way no flesh and blood could be. He still wasn’t wearing a shirt, but Vaclav barely noticed, craning his neck to watch the wings expand, the golden light crackling over their length. They lifted, and Vaclav’s breath caught, holding until they came down again in a rush. And then, they were aloft.

His stomached lurched with every beat as Jensen pulled him higher and higher, into the rafters of the warehouse. The bobbing of it was beginning to make him sick, the chicken feet sitting heavy in his stomach, but fuck, it was still worth it when the wings folded, and angled towards the concrete below. Vaclav let out a whoop, and he swore he heard Jensen laugh, which would be crazy, because Jensen didn’t laugh. As they neared the floor, he found he wasn’t even scared. If there was ever a way to go, this was it. 

But they didn’t hit, the light flaring again around them, and the wings sweeping out to stop their descent. Jensen set Vaclav gently on the floor, and he stumbled, reaching out as he tried to regain his balance. His hand caught on one of the wings, and like that first day, he felt the tingle of electricity run up his arm. A jolt to his system, and one far more pleasant than he’d admit, at least not without a lot more alcohol and the assurance Jensen wasn’t going to punch him for it. 

He looked up at Jensen, and fuck, he had a nice smile, didn’t he? When he actually bothered to bring it out. For the first time, Vaclav wondered what kind of life he’d had, back in America. But he didn’t ask. He wasn’t about to ruin the moment. Not when Jensen wasn’t pushing him away, for once not shutting down and shutting out. 

“That was brilliant. Mistake with the food, but…fuck. Thanks, Jensen. That was some seriously cool shit.”

As Jensen folded his wings, he let his hand drop to his side. The smile had faded, but Jensen seemed lighter, somehow. Like by taking off, he’d left a few of his worries behind. Hell, maybe Vaclav had helped after all.

“Call me Adam,” Jensen said, before turning back to the table and the food.

And fuck if that didn’t mean something, even if Vaclav barely knew what.

***

Vaclav lounged behind the counter of The Time Machine, idly thumbing through a book, waiting for the time to close up, and visit Jens— Adam. Weird, thinking about him like that. It seemed so normal. Vaclav had gone to school an Adam. Total asshole, and definitely not a guy on a crazy quest to save the world, or whatever it was that he was up to. But then, there was a reason why Vaclav was doing this crazy shit for this Adam, and not that one.

Turning the page, he spotted the short poem he was looking for. Perfect. He should’ve added it to his memory forever ago, but then again he mostly kept cybermetal protest lyrics and avant-garde litpunk in there. This was a bit different from his normal style. A classic. But it worked. Well, he hoped it worked. Jensen seemed like a smart guy. Cultured, the sort who might appreciate the classics. 

With a sigh of contentment, he set the book aside, grabbing his coat and locking up the shop. Technically they didn’t close for another fifteen minutes, but the nice thing about being the owner was that you didn’t have to follow the rules. He patted his pocket, where the new improved calibrator sat. It’d taken forever to get it, one of Sarif’s stolen prototypes, but sometimes you just had to do the right favor for the right person, and then voila, you were golden. And Vaclav was very good at doing favors. Also, if they tried to fuck him over later, hopefully Adam would be grateful enough to intervene. 

As he headed out the door, an alert popped up on his Infolink. What the hell? That couldn’t be right. Disturbance in the warehouse, per all the sensors he’d set up and made absolutely sure to tell Jensen about, since the paranoid bastard would’ve found them anyway. But that also meant Jensen wouldn’t have set them off. So there was someone else there. He called up his Infolink, but no response from Jensen. Fuck.

When he’d first suggested it, the fact the warehouse was a ways out had been a boon. Easier to keep nosy assholes out, and all that. But now, running to the metro station and diving through the doors just before they shut, he wished he’d picked somewhere closer. At least the fucking police hadn’t stopped him today. 

As the train pulled away, he bounced on his feet, trying not to panic, or say anything that looked like he was panicking. In fact, he should probably stop fidgeting as well. Any aug looking nervous tended to get harassed at best, and sent to Golem at worst. He took a deep breath, and tried to figure out what the hell he was doing. He’d stashed some mines and grenades in the warehouse, and if he could get to them, they might help. But he wasn’t a fighter, not some hero like Adam. An avenging angel, swooping down to deal justice even while he burned himself up. Fuck, if he got killed because of Vaclav—

This wasn’t helping.

He ran over schematics in his head, the steps needed to fix the calibrators, the readings he’d managed to get Adam to let him take of his wings last time. They truly were a marvel, and even without them, Adam was a hard man to take down. Vaclav knew he’d been through some crazy shit, even if he tried to avoid knowing the specifics. So even if there was an attack, he’d pull through. He had to.

Two more transfers and an hour later, and finally Vaclav arrived. The sensors had gone dead, which could be very good, or very bad. As he approached the warehouse, he noted a truck outside. Police, it looked like, but without official police markings. He wasn’t sure if that was better or worse. Fuck, fuck, fuck. But it wasn’t over yet. 

There’d never been a building Vaclav had occupied that he didn’t know all the secret ways into, and this was no different. He walked over to the overflowing dumpster, and shoved it aside, crawling behind it and into the vent. Not really his favorite way to go, but he didn’t have the stealth augs or the smart vision like Adam, so it was best to play it safe. Keep an eye on things as best he could. Maybe there wouldn’t be anything at all to deal with. Maybe Adam would’ve taken them all out, and when Vaclav tumbled out of the vent, covered in dust and looking like an idiot, he’d even smile.

It probably wouldn’t happen. But it might. So he crawled forwards, and prayed to any god listening that they hadn’t thought to trap the exit.

***

On the bright side, Adam wasn’t dead. But he didn’t look good either, bare chest cut and bruised. Not that it was slowing him down, as he slammed his fist into the face of one of the remaining police goons. Remaining, because from his vantage point in the small windowed office, Vaclav could see the rest dotted around the warehouse. He eyed the bag he’d dragged out from hiding. Should he try to throw one? But no, they were too close, he’d take out Adam as well. Best to wait and let him handle it, and then patch him up after. That was what he was good at.

Adam knocked the remaining two back with a buffet of wind from his wings, then took flight. It was still fucking incredible, even though he’d watched it a dozen times now, and felt it for himself. No way they’d have a chance against Adam, not when he was like that. 

Vaclav had always had a problem with speaking too soon. 

The gold light intermingled with blue, and for a second, Vaclav wondered if it was some new power, some other aug he hadn’t found. It seemed impossible, but Adam Jensen was a man soldered together with one impossibility after another. His eyes caught on something in one of the goon’s hands. A grenade launcher, where he was already loading another EMP grenade, firing in case the first wasn’t enough.

Then Adam plunged to the floor, and landed with a sickening crack. 

Before he could think better of it, Vaclav sprung to his feet, bag of mines and grenades in hand. The goons didn’t even see him, too focused on Adam, discussing what they were going to do with him in low tones. Vaclav didn’t even bother to listen, dropping behind the overturned table. No way in hell would he be able to take them head on. Or from behind. Or above, or below, or at all. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He wasn’t some badass hero out of a film like Adam. No, Vaclav knew his part. Quirky tech support. If he was lucky, he got his ass saved at the last second. But more likely he died. All very tragic, poor Koller, he tried his best, but really he had it coming in the end. Risky life and all, hanging out with crazy winged Augs.

Fuck that shit. 

He scanned the room, and tried to think. Only advantage he had was that they weren’t expecting him. So he had surprise on his side, but only one chance. Which meant a trap was his only option. If there were only one, he’d feel better. Just lay out all the mines, then wait for him to walk into one. But if he didn’t get them both, he was dead. And Adam was too, or worse, dropped into some lab, pulled apart and experimented on. By people who just saw it as cold tech, profit and advantage. Who didn’t see the beauty, the freedom, the poetry of it all. And who didn’t see the person that made it come alive. 

The mine slipped in his sweaty palm, and he bit back a curse. Stupid way to die, swearing at the wrong moment. Very, very carefully, he peered back over the table. They were still talking, but they probably wouldn’t be for much longer. So he inched forward, trying not to make too much noise, trying not to shake, and trying to figure out how much it’d cost to augment his legs too, and then add silencers. Questions for another day, when he was sure he’d see one. He set the first mine down. Gas. It wouldn’t kill them, but more importantly, it also wouldn’t kill Adam, still too close and no way for Vaclav to move him without them noticing. Then he set another beside it, just to be thorough, before arming them and crawling back behind the table. 

Only way to move now was to get them to both run towards the mine. But how? Even if he made noise, they weren’t just Dvali thugs. Only one would go, leaving the other to watch his back. So he needed to drive them forward. 

He really, really hoped his luck held out.

As he crept around the side of the room, his eyes drifted back to Adam. Still not moving. Fuck, he couldn’t be dead, could he? Didn’t matter though. Even if he were dead, like fuck was Vaclav letting them harvest him for parts. If he were dead, Vaclav would—it didn’t matter. Adam wasn’t dead. 

For once, he was glad thugs like this were messy. It fucking sucked when they were throwing his shit everywhere, but right now it gave him the cover he really hoped he didn’t need. He hefted an EMP grenade in his hand, and hoped to fuck he could throw it close enough to make them move.

They saw it as soon as he threw it, a spray of bullets ricocheting off the fallen debris as he ducked behind it, swearing profusely. He only sunk down further as the gunfire was interrupted by panicked shouting. So they’d seen the grenade. There was a thud of boots, more gunfire, and a crackle as the EMP grenade he’d tossed went off. 

Then came the hiss, quickly followed by hacking coughs.

Vaclav held his breath while he waited, listening hard for the coughing to stop, for two bodies to fall to the floor, proof that his stupid plan had worked. As the seconds ticked by, and the thuds came, he still remained hidden for a paralyzing minute, before finally peeking out. They’d both collapsed on the ground, but what if they were faking? He looked back into his back, giving it a considering look, then tossed a gas grenade their way. Better safe than sorry, and it still shouldn’t be enough to kill Adam, not with his implanted rebreather. He hoped. 

Just as he was breathing a sigh of relief, he heard it. The heavy, thunking sound of a murderous asshole, walking straight towards him. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. He pried open the panel on his arm, eyes running over the circuitry, before tearing a piece out, setting it aside.

“You’re the mechanic, aren’t you? Little Vaclav Koller.” 

Another footfall. Another failsafe discarded, then a third. Only one more to go—

“You know you’d be dead, if it wasn’t for your mechanical angel over there. Dead ten times over. You play with fire, you’ll eventually get burned, and you’ve avoided that fate for far too long, Mr. Koller.” 

He laughed, and despite his fear, Vaclav found himself rolling his eyes. Definitely too much time around Adam, if he was starting to find this exasperating instead of terrifying. And it didn’t matter anyway. The sound of heavy breathing, the click of a safety coming off reached his ears. The thug was in range. And Valcav was ready.

In his head, he said something impressive. Something heroic, or maybe a witty one-liner. That was what he’d tell his friends, what he’d tell Adam even though Adam wouldn’t believe him. But as he threw himself towards the thug, the only sound he maybe was a strangled yelp that quickly morphed into a scream as he slammed his electrified arm into the asshole’s face. 

And it worked. 

The thug dropped to the ground, the smell of scorched skin enough to make Vaclav retch, even as his vision darkened. He collapsed onto hands and knees, shaking and struggling for air as waves of pain rolled over him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a crackle of gold, and heard the scraping of metal on the concrete even as his head sank to the floor, and he drifted into unconsciousness.

***

Vaclav’s first thought was that he must be dead. Looming above him was an angel, cast in brilliant silver, black and gold. Just the sort of heaven he’d liked to imagine, his mind altered by one substance or another. Gorgeous and intimidating, with bright green eyes fonder than their owner would like to admit as he stared down at Vaclav.

“Quite the save there, Koller. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

A hand appeared in front of his face. He regarded it warily, then look it, letting Adam pull him to his feet, and not even bothering hide his groan of pain. After all, it was in coming to Adam’s rescue he’d earned his battle wounds. 

“Oh, fuck you, man. I just saved your life, and that’s all you’ve got to say?” He was smiling helplessly. Fuck, when had he gotten so attached? He reached for Adam with his other hand, skimming the wings, watching them shiver. Damn, that shit was strong. Not even a crack.

And Adam let him touch then. Didn’t even shy away as his the fingers of his still working arm ran over the lines, not clinically, as a mechanic. But as an artist, appreciating their beauty. And—and maybe something more. Crazy as it was. 

“Thank you,” Adam said, grabbing his hand, holding it tight. 

Vaclav stared down at their entwined hands. Fuck, they looked good together, didn’t they? Engineering perfection, and the humans attached weren’t too bad either. Something must’ve shown on his face, because Adam tugged him a bit closer.

“What’s the look for?” Adam said. 

“I found a poem for you.” He looked up at Adam, oddly giddy. 

“A poem,” Adam said dubiously. “You like poetry?”

“I own a bookstore, man. What did you expect?” 

Adam shrugged, and it should be irritating, shouldn’t it? Or scary. Or something other than Vaclav’s first thought, which was cute. Fuck, was he really doing this?

“So it’s an old one. Oscar Wilde.” He felt like an idiotic teenager. And he didn’t even care, not with Adam looking at him like that. He took a breath, and said:

“Never regret thy fall,  
O Icarus of the fearless flight  
For the greatest tragedy of them all  
Is never to feel the burning light.”

Then he waited, trying to resist the urge to fuck off or just babble. And ignoring the part of him that was still insisting that he should’ve gone with the cybermetal lyrics. Or maybe the nu-aug wave. 

“You really think it’s worth it, don’t you?” He was smiling, sad and a little bitter, and not entirely convinced. 

Vaclav reached into his pocket, and pulled out the calibrator, twirling it between his fingers.“I can hide your wings, man. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t fly.” 

The stare he got was…fuck, he still didn’t know. Still wasn’t sure if he was saying the right thing, if there even was a right thing, a way to make Adam understand that whatever had made him, he was still a miracle. On impulse, Vaclav reached out, but this time not for the wings. Not for any augs. His fingers brushed over Adam’s beard, and a thousand sensors translated it into sensation for his brain. “You’re better than you think. I know it. We may—fuck, I don’t know the half of it. But I know you, man. I know you’re going to fly, or burn up trying. But you don’t…” 

Fuck it. His lips met Adam’s, nothing big, no heart stopping romantic moment, no swelling strings. Just a mouth that tasted like electricity and blood, and fuck if he wasn’t into that. Just as he was about to pull away, a hand wove through his hair, holding him there, a little bit longer.

“You’re going to drive me crazy,” Adam said, thumb brushing Vaclav’s cheek.

Vaclav laughed, and almost wasn’t shocked when Adam laughed as well, the sound small and startled from him. Right now, high on adrenaline and whatever hell this was, Vaclav didn’t care how insane this all was. Kissing some beautiful American Aug on what might be a suicide mission, because damned if Vaclav didn’t want to burn up with him.

“Fuck yeah, I am.” 

That was a promise he was keeping. No matter how crazy the consequences.


End file.
